History Repeats Itself
by NoFangYou
Summary: This is a story of after eldest, my version of how Inheritance should go. I guess.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters thus far.**

Eragon sat beside the diamond tomb of Brom, finally returning to a place that felt like home. After many battles with the Varden, and a few rows with Roran, he made his way back to the man that felt more like his father than any man, save Garrow, could ever hope to be. (A/n I know what you're thinking and no, Oromis doesn't count. He's not technically a man)

Eragon folded his elvenish form beside the unravished form of his mentor, and began to cry freely as Saphira scouted around from overhead. He cried until he could cry no more. He cried for Ajihad, for Hrothgar, for Brom, for Brom's Saphira, and finally, for himself. He looked down at his gedway ignasia, and wondered why so many died in his name. He feared for Arya and Roran, the only family he had left. Murtagh was a traitor, and didn't deserve to be called his brother, just as Morzan didn't deserve to be called his father.

Saphira seemed to cry as well, and every so often, Eragon thought he could feel giant water drops hit his exposed skin. He ran one hand over the crystal that protected his friend just as Saphira cried out inside his mind, _Eragon! We have to leave! I can sense Thorn and Murtagh. They are close._

He thought aloud. "Murtagh and Thorn are close? That's impossible! I can see for miles from this peak!"

For what seemed like the millionth time in his life, Fate laughed in his face. Murtagh, on Thorn's giant red back, flew out of the hole he and Eragon had once sought refugee from the empire. Eragon remembered the way he had stumbled many a time out of that hole, clutching his side, to do exactly what he had been doing moments before. Grieving the loss of one of the best men he had ever met, and the best Rider.

Murtagh dismounted from Thorn. "Closer than you think, Little Brother. I've been thinking about what you said earlier. About letting you kill me. And I came to the conclusion that maybe you are right." Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, but felt yet another pang of loss. After all, Murtagh had once been his best friend and ally at arms.

"Then I decided that you are wrong."

All happy feelings gone.

An epic battle ensued as Murtagh swung at Eragon with Za'roc, the crimson blade shining in the sun. Eragon brought up the blade that Arya had given him for his eighteenth birthday. The blade that matched the color of Saphira's scales. His Rider's blade.

The impact numbed his right arm, so he switched quickly to his left, all the swiftness of his new form needed. Murtagh swung Za-roc again, this time in a crescent moon strike, and sparks flew.

Overhead, Saphira was battling Thorn, her strong jaw clamped tightly over Thorn's left forearm. She twisted aerially, and bit his tail hard. The red dragon roared all mightily, and snapped toward Saphira, who dodged it swiftly. They continued this way, Saphira gaining advantage with every bite, Thorn getting weaker with every drop of blood spilt. Their Riders weren't nearly as lucky.

"Eragon, did you know that I am now Galbatorix's most trusted vassal? He entrusted upon me the most sacred of knowledge. Do you want to know what it is?"

Eragon, too busy trying to avoid Murtagh's deft blade, didn't respond. Murtagh locked hilts with Eragon, and pulled him close to whisper in his ear, "The last dragon egg, the final dragon, is female."

Eragon felt himself go numb, and heard Saphira's cry of sorrow in his mind. _Impossible! How could Galbatorix know that? _He then thought of the miraculous growth of Thorn and all the possibilities the dark arts may have presented him with. _Saphira, don't give up hope! It's our only chance of surviving this! Galbatorix may have given Murtagh this information falsly to try to dishearten us!_

Saphira mentally nodded, and tore at Thorn with renewed vigor. _Egg Breaker! Murderer! Traitor!_

Eragon smirked at these words from the sapphire dragon, and thrust for Murtagh's heart, only to be knocked have his foe knocked breathless by a fallen dragon. Thorn had fallen out of the sky, and Murtagh had pierced the crimson dragon's heart with his own blade. Murtagh's cry of anguish racked the hills, and Eragon had a single thought cross his mind. _And history repeats itself. The seeds of madness plant themselves once again._

Brom's tomb glinted especially bright, seemingly in agreement, and Saphira landed next to the bloodstained Eragon with a grim expression. _I'm sorry, little one._

_Why? You did nothing. Let it go._

And with that, they took off into the sunset, once again returning to the Varden


	2. Chappie 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of the characters!

Eragon and Saphira flew over the Hadarac Desert, Eragon nearly falling asleep in the saddle. He remembered his reaction to the first time he flew and chuckled. His vow to never fly Saphira again had been broken so very many times. He recalled how she had looked when she had first hatched, and compared it to how she looked now. Back then she had been a little imp, and now she was a fearsome creature of legend and lore.

No more could he brood about this however. He landed next to the stunned Arya, and he could tell that she was confused, just before she regained her posture and looked at him with an impartial expression. "Nice going, Galbatorix, but you're not going to fool me again."

Eragon was confused. "Galbatorix? Alya, I'm Eragon, and this is Saphira, remember?"

"Just go away. This is cruel, sending your apparitions to make me vulnerable. I knew you were weak, but this is your all time low."

"What are you talking about? It's really me! Eragon!"

"That's impossible. I just returned from Eragon's funeral. Saphira's too."

Eragon was flabbergasted and allowed his expression to show as much. "That's not possible. Thorn's dead, not Saphira. I was just fine."

She laughed that horrible laugh again. "That's funny. Thorn flew across the sky while we were crying. Murtagh's laugh could be heard clearly on the ground." She pulled out her delicate sword. "Galbatorix, how could you? I thought we used to be friends."

_Friends?_ Saphira commented, just as confused as Eragon.

"Friends?" Eragon repeated his dragon, and jerked back.

"I have to admit, this is the best imitation yet. He even has that glimmer in his eyes that Eragon did. You just had to take both the men that I loved didn't you?" She swung that vicious sword down on Eragon. He blocked immediately, and swung back again, his agile body coming in handy once again. Two fights in one day. He really needed to start training…Wait. Did she just say that she loved him?

Eragon brought his blade up just in time to stop Arya's blurred blade. Stupid. He mentally chided himself, still guarding his body from the vicious attacks of the elf. Her blade hissed through the air in front of him, and he managed to get her to stop temporarily for a breather. Saphira, he noted, was surprisingly quiet through the whole exchange. Arya, recovered through her short rest, flung herself at Eragon with renewed vigor. She slashed downward from over her head, then at the last second switched it to a side cut, her blade biting into his side. Blood trickled out of his open wound.

"So you bleed too. Wonder what you look like as you die!?" She swung at his again, and it took all his strength to both fend her off and ignore the pain.

What can I do to get her to stop? He remembered his words from when he had been speaking with her thought their minds. "Eka ai fricai un Shur'rugal!" (Check it out. It's right.) I am friend and Rider!

She stopped. So that's all I had to do to take a res- . He felt a subconscious brush against his mind, then penetrate deeply. He mentally slapped himself for not guarding his mind more carefully until he could feel the bell-like hollowness of Arya's mind. Her voice rang clear in his head as crisp and refreshing as an oasis in the Hadarac Desert.

_Eragon?_

_Aye. _He felt himself fall over, and Arya nuzzle herself into his neck.

_Eragon! I was so distraught! But then who was in the coffin?_

_Illusion?_ He took delight in the fact that her slim body was so very close to his own.

_Why didn't I see it? I could always tell... _Her sentence trailed off. _He will pay for this!_

_Arya, calm down. I'm okay!_

_I know that now, but do you have the slightest idea how many people were at your funeral, crying their eyes out? Nasuada, Roran, Katrina, even Gertrude was crying. Not to mention Mother._

_They were?_

_Yes, Eragon. You're our only hope since that traitor Murtagh and his accursed dragon..._

_I killed Thorn._

_You did what?_

_Actually, Saphira knocked him out of the sky, and Murtagh stabbed him, but I was there..._

_Murtagh stabbed his own dragon?_

_Accidently. Again, Saphira knocked him out of the sky._

_I am glad you are okay. _He could feel Arya climb off of him, and he missed her warmth.

He relayed their conversation to Saphira, who looked ready to cry for some reason.

_What's the matter?_

_The last egg just hatched, little one._

_Why is that a bad thing_?

_Because_, he could see a large tear run down her blue cheek, _I have heard no news that it is in the possession of the Varden._

Eragon turned to Arya. "We will need to get back to the Varden."

"Why?"

"The last egg just hatched, and I have a really bad feeling about this."

**Oh! Cliffy! Don't hate me! Please! R&R as to whether the egg should be male or female! I have a storyline either way, so we'll take a poll and I'll post the results with the next entry!**

**Love you all,**

**Sora's Kairi**


	3. Chappie 3

Okay, so this is the only review that I've gotten for this story as to regarding the poll. So far, the egg is male, so if you don't like that, change it. Also, should the egg be with the Varden or not. I appreciate your input. Thank you to Karin for reviewing!

**Hope, Ashlee, I know you're probably reading this, so just let me know what you think at school tomorrow.**

_Life is so unfair. The last egg in the world, and it hatches in the possession of Galbatorix. There is no hope for the world, Saphira. Why is it like this? We know what's right, and in the stories, the heroes always win. What are we doing wrong?_

_We are doing nothing wrong, Eragon. There is no reason to believe that we are wrong. We can't control fate, and you know that. We are just along for the ride._

_That is the most vague thing I've ever heard you say._

_I try. I'm sorry Eragon. I know you are depressed. There is not much I can do for you to help your decision. You chose the Varden. No one else did it for you. _

_You told me that you would not serve Galbatorix!  
_

_I do not serve Galbatorix. I serve you. Whether or not you decided to align yourself with the King was not my decision. I would have followed you regardless._

_Thank you._

_Now, talk to Arya. She's beating herself up over her accidental confession._

_How do you know? _

_How else, Eragon. Use your head!_

_Oh. Right. Sorry._

_Stop apologizing and talk!_

Saphira barrel-rolled in the air, nearly dislodging Eragon from his seat. He righted himself from his sideways position in the saddle, and looked to the beautiful elf riding in front of him. She had, of course, kept her seat during the barrel roll that had nearly sent Eragon spiraling to his death..

"Arya?"

"Yes?"

"Did you really mean what you said earlier? About loving me?" _God, I sound like a child still in his adolescence. Do you know, like me, like me? _

_Stop beating yourself up. She's talking you idiot._

"-I'm sorry."

"What was that? Saphira was talking."

_You idiot! Don't blame me for your stupidity!_

"I said, yes. I'm sorry."

He swung forward, and kissed her quickly, before she could react, forgetting that she was an elf.

He needn't have worried, however, as she responded immediately, reacting with lightning fast speed. She didn't pull away for a long time, and when she did, she was flushed.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be. I started it remember? It is I who am sorry."

"What makes you think I want you to be sorry?"

"Well, do you?"

"No." She repeated his earlier actions, but with a higher intensity to begin with.

_Would you stop eating her face for a second and look at this?_

_I am not-! Oh never mind! _He turned his attention to in front of Saphira's head and almost gasped at what he saw. There was smoke rising from the mountain on which they were to land, and the rock face at the entrance to the Varden's secret lair was cracked wide open.

_Nasuada! Saphira! Land! _ His flustered state caused his inability to speak more than one word sentences.

They shot toward the ground and Eragon jumped off Saphira's back before she could land, shortly followed by Arya.

"They will pay." The elf's graceful features were twisted in malice, and she looked as murderous as any Ra'zac.

**Hey! Polls! Please! God, now I'm getting Eragon's inability to form real sentences!**

**Love you all,**

**Sora's Kairi**


	4. Polls and Answers Author's Note

Okay, since I got so many review on the last update…hmmm (two)….i figured that I'd clarify things. Murtagh is not dead. Thorn is. A rider can exist without his dragon. Eragon was in the Beor Mountains when he ran into Arya, therefore they were fairly close to the Varden for the awkward silence to last. I killed the pretty red dragon off so early because I needed him gone for my storyline to work. The Varden is not gone, just penetrated. Nasuada is all right. It's okay. There is not much else I can do for any more story without the polls being answered so this still stands….

**  
Male-1**

**Female-0**

**Just to clarify, if the dragon is female, then it won't be that Saphira is homosexual. It's just I want to know whether or not you want the race of dragons to continue (or will it end? Hmmm…)**

**Love,**

**Sora's Kairi**


	5. Chapter 4

**Okay, so the results of the polls are...MALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hmmmm...Interesting... Rubs chin Murtagh's a liar! Haha! Any suggestions for names for the male dragon? He's going to be a silver dragon with ice blue eyes. OOPS!!!!!!!!!! I've said too much!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon.**

Eragon flew through the gates of Tronjheim and straight up the stairs of Farthen Dur, leaving an amazed Saphira in his wake. Arya followed him closely, knowing that she could surpass him easily, but staying behind for mental support for him. She ran alongside him, moving in between bodies up and down the steep stairs, and Eragon matched her pace, moving with his own elven grace. Arya sniffed the air, smelling blood, and no life in the ghostly halls.

Saphira, still surprised by her rider's speed, launched into motion, throwing herself at the doors into Farthen Dur, splitting them wide open. Eragon was standing in front of Nasuada's doors, mouth wide open. There were Urgal bodies surrounding the bed with arrows poking out of the carcasses. She nudged his arm with her scaly nose. He looked down at her with hopeful eyes and looked among the bodies once more. Nasuada's was not among them.

_She's not here. _His thoughts portrayed the very quintessence of hope.

_I know, dear one. _

_Then there is hope for our survival in the Varden._

_Yes. _

Eragon brooded for a long while, picking through the cadavers for any thing that may be of use. Many of the weapons were bent, broken, or just really ugly. The black hand repeatedly appeared on shields and on packs. Rings and wristbands were sparce, but when he did find them, they were richly decorated and quite beautiful. Leather strips inlaid with turquoise stones and gold string. There were rings of solid gold and silver inlay. Bronze neckbands and golden shackle-like anklets. _Remind me that if I'm ever going to be a prisoner, I want to be a prisoner of Galbatorix. He at least decorates his slaves._

_You don't want to be a prisoner at all. Siding with the Varden has earned you a place on the gallows. Now, shut your mouth and search so we can get out of here. It's making my tail itch._

_Your tail?_

_What? At least I don't scratch my butt whenever and wherever I please._

_Saphira, you are a needle in a haystack._

_More like a gem in the sand._

He laughed audibly, and Arya looked at him as though he had sprouted an extra head.

He was just pulling off a jeweled waterskin when:

_ERAGON!!!_

_Yes?_

_Dragon!_

Eragon's head shot up faster than an arrow in flight. The skies were instantly darkened by a silver dragon, a young girl straddling its back. It was a young woman with coal black hair, a slim frame and startling eyes. The black hair of the rider hung low, long past the forelegs of the young dragon. Her ice blue eyes matched her dragons in exact color. The dragon, maybe six months younger than Saphira herself, was male and a very handsome dragon to look at, his silver scales threatening to outshine Saphira's. Saphira snorted at the dragon, and pulled back in surprise for whatever reason she kept unto herself. The rider called out with a voice like steel and orchids. Soft, with a hard undertone indicating that she wouldn't put up with much.

"Are you Eragon?" Arya leered at the girl with an emotion that Eragon could not place, as it had never been on the elf's face before.

"Aye." He hesitated in answering.

"Then I was sent here by Nasuada to bring you to Surda, where we are currently refugeed."

"Fricai?" _Friend? _

"Eka ai fricai un Shur'tugal." _I am friend and Rider. _The girl was definitely well versed in the ancient language, as her accent was rival to Oromis'. He was well tempted to check her ears for points.

_I don't entirely believe her._

_Neither do I, Eragon. Tread carefully with this one. _

"Who are you?"

**YAY!!!!!!!!! Cliffy! Don't hate me plz! Names? Soon, plz! I have ideas and I'd like to share them with you. **

**Love ,**

**Sora's Kairi**


	6. Chapter 5 Spellweavers

**Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon... but I wish I did.**

**I got a lot of good suggestions for the names of the dragon, but I had to consult Chris Paolini himself to get the name for the Rider. No, I didn't actually talk to him. You'll find out for yourself when I write that part.**

**Today is Hope's birthday!!! I thought I'd finally update this for her, so everyone wish her a message at her account Zukosfire7. She has a wonderful story that I enjoy reading tho she refuses to finish the update, no matter how much I beg...pout Well, this one's dedicated to you, babe!!**

Previous:

"Who are you?"

"I am one that will save you. I am Rider. I am friend. That is all you need to know for now." She looked to Arya. "Princess."

"Don't give me any of that, Aiedailia." **(A/N Aiedail is the morning star, so I just made it feminine. See what I mean?)**

"I would have hoped for a warmer reception from you, sister of mine."

"You are no more my sister than Eragon is. Maybe in blood, but no longer in name. Not since you tried to have me killed."

"But Arya, that was never me! I simply gave an answer when one asked me where you resided. There was no malice in my heart for you."

Eragon's head was swimming and, from the look on her long face, Saphira's was too. One thing was for sure though, he was in the company of more than one elven royal.

Saphira sniffed warily and cautiously at the silver dragon, and his light blue eyes studied her closely. _I never thought I would see another of my kind! At least none that aren't evil._ Saphira's voice was cheerful, giddy even. There was no doubt in her mind. He was all right.

_Hello, Rider. _An unfamiliar voice rang in his mind, male and full.

_Hello dragon. What may I call you?_

_I am called Arget. It is what I am as much as what I look like._

Eragon puzzled over this for a brief instant. _How did you escape from Galbatorix? _

_I did no such thing. I was found in a stream outside of Du Weldenvarden, one that runs deep and wide. I suppose my mother dropped me there to protect me from the evils of the land, but I have no memory of such an occurrence. I have been hatched for a little over a year now. _

His story made sense. Saphira had been hatched for almost four years, and male dragons grew at a more rapid rate than females. Arget was only a little smaller than Saphira.

_Saphira? Do you believe his story?_

_I hope he is telling the truth. Eragon! This is a chance for dragon race to thrive again! _Silver tears, almost the color of the dragon standing before them, made their way down her muscular cheek, landing on the ground with a small _plop. _

_Oh. Saphira, don't cry. _He placed a hand on her crown, and rubbed her comfortingly. He felt horrible just standing there like a lump, not being able to do much to help the companion he had known so long.

_Thank you, little one. I will be alright. _She took off and left him standing there, like the oaf he felt himself to be.

Arya placed a warm hand on his shoulder, and pressed her fingers into his shoulder. He looked again at the new rider. "Aiedailia is it?"

"Aye. Though I have not been entirely truthful."

"As is obvious."

"I was lying for the sake of my dragon, and I do not appreciate your tone!" She pulled herself up to her full height of 5'5'' and looked him in the nose. (**A/N I'm imagining Eragon about 6'0'' in this so that's about nose level)**

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down, princess! I meant no offense. I was just stating that there was much ot be desired at your introduction." He started at what he said and the look of approval in Arya's eyes. "That didn't come out the way I wanted it to."

She held up a hand. "Save the words. You'll need them soon enough."

He shot a surprised look at Arya, who just smiled at him. She was obviously pleased that her sister was so pissed off.

Aiedailia walked out of the room as swiftly as if she had never been there, Arget's wings whispering and fluffing their hair as the wind whipped beneath his wings.

Eragon whispered low. Arya sighed.

"Now you've met all of my insane family. All that still live, anyway." She spit out the last part with more venom in her voice than he had ever heard. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, throwing the pack full of loot over his own shoulder.

Saphira was waiting in the clearing outside of Farthen Dur. Arya leaped onto her back with the grace granted to all elves, and Eragon tried hopping on behind her, only to slide back off. Arya chuckled, and he reddened.

_Saphira, help me on!_

_No. You are to stay here. _

_Why?_

_You shall find out._

He blanked her out, mad at her. She took off, and he was anxious at first. He saw Arya cast a surprised look over Saphira's tail, and he waved. He found a seat on a rock. He trusted Saphira, and he would wait as she had indirectly asked. He scoffed. _Silly mind!! Saphira, ask?_

He passed the time by blowing up rocks with magic. He had just carved a dragon when Arget touched down, riderless this time.

_Hello little one._

_Hello Skulblaka._

_I suppose you're wondering why I asked Saphira to leave you here._

_Aye._

_Aiedailia is not well. She lets on that she is, but she is dying. Only one thing can cure her, and Arya possess that. Noone else in the world can heal my Rider. _

_What is this thing that Arya possesses?_

_It's a simple enough thing: love. Arya holds a hate for Aiedailia close to her heart like a drawing of a lover. There is nothing she loves more. Except you. I think that you might be able to convince her to give up her grudge, and embrace her sister once again._

_Hate is killing her?_

_Loathing is more appropriate, but yes. Arya and Aiedailia share a special relationship. As princesses of the elves, many things will attempt to tear them apart, figuratively and literally. They need to stay strong, but Arya thinks that Aiedailia took out a hit on her. I've been in her mind, and Aiedailia bears no malice to Arya. I just want to keep my Rider, Eragon. I know that you would do the same thing for Saphira._

_I would. I will try._

Arget nodded his great head, and went to take off again. _Wait, one more thing, little one._

_What is that?_

_Is it alright if I court your dragon?_

Eragon was surprised at first, but recovered quickly. _You have my permission. I just want Saphira to be happy. If you can do that for her, then please do._

_Thank you. She is beautiful._

_Yes. She is._

He felt Arget slip from his mind, and soar across the skies. _Saphira, you want to get me out of this godsforsaken place?_

_I'm already on my way, little one._

_Wow, that was fast._

_What do you expect? Do you think that I would leave you out here in the wilderness by yourself with all the animals and Urgals? Do you think I have a death wish?_

_Good to know you care._

_Oh, Eragon, don't be like that._

She erupted from the trees, and settled down on her back with ease. _You purposely let me fall, didn't you? In front of Arya too!_

_You needed to have your ego knocked back a few places. _She didn't sound sheepish at all as she took off into the skies, heading for yet another temporary home.

They touched down in front of a large wall about ten miles away from Tronjheim, and Saphira roared once. The doors shot opened, and a very pale Orin stood at his post at the door. "Eragon!!" He regained a little color, but was still very pale.

"Orin!! How have you been, my brother?" (**A/N Remember Hrothgar's invitation?) **

"I've been better. All this hiding and dodging shadows has me going paranoid." His rough voice was a welcome relief.

"I understand. Where do you have me?"

"In the dragonhold, as usual."

"But-"

"Do you honestly think Tronjheim was the only city the Riders visited in the past? No. Welcome, my dear friend, to Hfaour, the city of gold." He pulled open the rock doors, and Eragon gasped in amazement. Immediatly, he was tackled to the ground by a little girl with hair the color of chocolate, and eyes as blue as ice.

"Argetlam!!!"

Eragon looked at Saphira over the girls head. _Do you know her?_

_No. Do you?_

_Never seen her before in my life._

"Excuse me? Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you!! You saved me from the Ra'zac!"

"I did?"

"Yes! I was with the girl, Katrina. When you rescued her, I had an opportunity to stab one of those awful creatures in the back with their own knives! You saved my life!!"

"It seems to me you saved your own life."

"Maybe, but that's not what I'm talking about. Because of you, my father is letting me join the Varden! I'm an archer!" She looked so proud of this statement that he couldn't help but smile.

"And who is your father?"

"I think you know him well. My father, Argetlam, is Oromis, the Cripple who is Whole."

Eragon was shocked speechless. But only for a second. "Oromis. The Rider Oromis? But..."

"Yes, I'm his daughter. I haven't seen him so long that I have forgotten his face."

"Yes. Me too." Eragon bowed his head, shamed over not seeing his only live father figure in almost two years.

"But its alright now!! You're here!" She squeezed him again, and ran off into the many halls and corridors that led from the entrance to who knows where.

"Incorrigible elf that one. She's done nothing but talk about you since she got here."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Its up to you to judge. She's a scribbler that one. Can draw anything she's seen so perfectly you feel as though you've seen it too. Her best friend is a writer, and together they write the books that entertain the children and adults alike. We are all going stir-crazy in this city."

"How long have you been here?"

"Two months. Just days after you and Saphira took off on the horizons. Nasuada is waiting for you in the great hall, and I think we all know better than to keep her waiting."

"Indeed." _Are you going to the dragonhold?_

_Yes. I will meet you there. Arget and Aiedailia are already there. I will tell you when they are asleep._

_No, that's alright. I've been wanting to talk to Aiedailia privately since I met her. At least as personally as I can with two dragons waiting at our backs._

_That is true. _

_Now, go have fun. I love you, Saphira._

_And I you._

She took off again, clipping the wall with her wing and knocking a gem off of the walls. Eragon held it in his hands, and handed it to an amazed Orin. "We must get her mining. We've been trying to remove that gem for weeks."

"I don't think she'd like that. She likes places that people can admire her beauty."

_You do know that I can hear you, right?_

_Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way._

_That's it. I'm toasting your butt when you get up here._

_Do you have a death wish?_

_Who said I was going to kill you?_

Eragon chuckled in his mind. He turned his attention back to Orin, who was already fifty paces ahead of him. "Hurry up, Argetlam. Just because you are Rider doesn't mean she won't give you a good beating."

"She's almost like Saphira in that respect."

"I think she would consider that a compliment."

"Indeed."

Nasuada was as regal as ever, dressed in an overcoat made entirely of Varden lace, more beautiful than the nimblest of weavers could have spun. She had a head piece of chained gold, wrapped delicately around her crown and joining behind her head. She looked at him, and relief and joy passed through her eyes briefly.

"Argetlam."

"Nasuada. How my eyes have missed such beauty." He kissed her hands.

"Eragon. You are such a joker. I know you have been traveling with the egg-courier, Arya." She pretended to be scorn, and laughed.

"Yes, but I was never so relieved than to not find your remains upon the wreckage that is Tronjheim."

"Me as well. Luckily I had Elva or they would have been."

"Where is the child?"

"She is at lessons. She has finally stopped growing herself as a teenage girl. She has begun to spend more time with the scribbler elf and her writer friend."

"I was attacked by the scribbler. What is her name?"

"Esperanza, I think. Her friend is Obrexok. They have done wonders with the children."

"So I've heard."

Finally, her face went from friend to queen-like. "And what have you learned in your travels, vassal?"

"Thorn is dead, and Murtagh has gone insane. He will probably campaign for a new one, but I suppose that Galbatorix will have about as much sympathy for his situation as a starving fox for a lame rabbit."

"To him, Murtagh is only a lame rabbit now."

"That I can believe."

"You should. This is good news. I suggest you go to meet the scribblers. They might just teach you something."

He nodded, and went to the door to ask Orin for directions.

He arrived at the house of the two elves to the frantic sound of charcoal moving swiftly across paper, and the familiar scratch of a quill pen. He knocked solidly on the door, and heard an annoyed moan come from the room inside. A girl, about fifteen, opened the door, her chocolate hair draggling almost to her knees, and her violet eyes burning a hole in his chest as she looked up. "May I help you?"

"Obrexok?"

"Aye. I am she." Her words flowed over him, and he was paralyzed by the honey-soaked tones.

"I am-."

"I know who you are, Argetlam." That beautiful voice erupted from the unremarkable mouth again, and he wished she would speak more. "Esperanza has been waiting for you." She stepped aside to allow him passage into the brightly lit house. Elva was lounging on a chair, her knees hooked over one arm.

"Hello, Shadeslayer."

"Elva. I see you have finally found a form to your liking?"

"Yes. I have. No thanks to you. I think I will age normally from now on."

"I am truly sorry. Do you still wish me to remove my curse?"

"Yes. But not now. It is getting less and less demanding the more and more I stay in this form. But that doesn't' mean I forgive you."

"Nor do I expect you to."

"Good."

Esperanza walked into the room carrying three mugs of hot chocolate, and nearly dropped them in surprise. "Eragon!"

"Easy!" He helped her get a grip on the plates before moving his gaze around the room. A few pictures were posted around the window, drawings of dwarves, of elves, of Du Weldenvarden, but never of Ellesmera.

He supposed she was homesick, but he was too captivated by the images to ask. The recreations were so very accurate that he couldn't breathe. Obrexok came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Beautiful, aren't they?" Came the magical voice. "They keep the homesickness. We lived in Kirtan, not a stone's throw from Du Weldenvarden. We used to hike there on weekends and do whatever nature called us to do. There is the place where inspiration flows from your fingers sitting on the hills, and drawings become all the more perfect, especially when coming from talented fingers. We used to go up with our friends, and spend days on end just honing our skills." As she spoke, hills of the greenest grass crowded with exuberant elves just playing as the breeze fluffed the grass under their feet filled his mind, and he almost reached out to touch it, wondering if it was real.

Obrexok took her hand off of his shoulder and walked down one of the hallways covered in darkness, her chocolate hair swinging, making noise as it stroked her back. Eragon almost chased her to beg to speak again, to fill his mind with the images once again.

"You're very lucky. Obrexok doesn't use her magic for just anyone. Especially in a benign way." Esperanza spoke and awoke him from his daze.

"Magic?" Had he been bewitched and never known it?

"Obre is a Pipan, a magician of words. She can capture your mind, and toy with it until you're completely defenseless with just a few words. Much the same way as I am with my drawing. I'm sure you felt the longing from looking at the Du Weldenvarden picture. That's what's known as Scocha, the art of drawing the mind into a picture. They're very rare arts. As far as I know, Obre and I are the only ones of our kind." (**A/N I know what you're thinking. "You're taking serious poetic license here, babe." I totally agree. But I had to come up with something for Hope and me, and witches seemed like the best bet. I'm not an egotistical maniac! )**

Eragon felt a longing for their lost culture, and wished that he could find more of the Pipan's to come together and speak for him. That the Scocha would combine to create one great picture to capture the minds of not only himself, but anyone that dared to stand against him.

"I don't use my magic in all of my drawings, but Obre pours hers into her writing. The people are usually busting down our door to try to get sequels. We just moved here to avoid that. I keep telling her to stop. She's being unfair." She pouted, and laid a fourth mug on a dresser. So this is what Nasuada meant when she said that he might learn something from these teens...

He stayed in their home for a while longer, enjoying the pleasantly hyper company of the two witches. They laughed until it was late, and then talked some more. Eragon was red in the face from laughter when he left that night. He managed to guide his own way back to the dragon hold in the winding streets of Hfaour, only getting lost once. He patted Saphira's wing, and curled himself against her warm stomach, all thoughts of talking to the other Rider replaced with the hills of green, and the magics of two certain girls...

**I hope that this makes up for my lack of updates for so long!! It's 11 pages and it took me eight hours to write, so I hope you like it. R&R as always, and wish Hope a Happy Birthday at zukosfire7. I know she'd appreciate it. Lol. I hope she'll appreciate it. Okay, I love you all and I'm sorry for my writers block!!!**

**Love,**

**Sora's Kairi**


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys!! Sorry I haven't updated in a while!!! If you wanna read some of the new stuff I've been working on, you can just go to soraskairi. this is the site where I've been posting all my OF!!!

Thanks guys!!!

Sora's Kairi


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